American Dreams

I wrote twenty poems in one weekend, here are three of them.

Dearest reader,

I have fallen in love! Not really— I’m being dramatic— but I can’t stop dreaming of this one perfect, movie kiss. In true form, I have been writing poetry, and because sharing is caring, I have compiled some of them for you. I have never taken a class in writing poetry, so my metre is flawed, and my rhyme schemes are pioneering— I hope you all can forgive me for my imperfect poetics.

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1. Murder on Kinnesburn Road

Paralyzed, lost in to the cacophony, this new-age torture porn.

White cars kiss curbs, zipping by the militant corn,

I blow down our roads of desire and lay on the horn.

I stir up ghosts, get killed by a man not of woman born.

You drove a sword through my armour, many times worn,

Speared by lame words misspoken, left holey with scorn.

Still River, you’re in it, gaze naked like sheep just shorn.

Nothing is sacred, yet promises were sworn.

I have dug and filled the grave, it is your turn to mourn.

2. Under The Table

Underneath the table, water has begun to flow
Into the bar, bringing with it sea growth,
Trying to hide the weeds hidden below.
Never trust that smile is proof of oath!

There are centimeters betwixt these knees,
Legs shake, and everyone knows what comes next.
With trembling hands, out come the keys—
Is ten fingers touching accident or pretext?—

The burn roils, spitting out two warm bodies,
Who can kiss in secret, but not under moonlight.
Standing stock still, disguised from the armies,
They each share a skeleton and from lips take a bite.

The magpie mocks this pretend noncholance,
Both lovers waiting for the other’s response.

3. Now Read It Back To Me

Let’s replay what happened last night
Who kissed who, who turned turned on my light?

You held out an apple in the shape of a pear,
And asked for a sin in truth or dare.

Your eyes pull me forward in silent command;
I cannot refuse a well-muscled hand,

Dream eyes, long limbs, skin like sand;
Inescapable, luminous— you ruined my plan.

So I contrive a new word! One for a stare
That is felt through walls —a stare that I swear

Can only come from an unsuspecting knight.
One who knows how to kiss in night and daylight,

Who does not shudder when I say I will write
A poem about how my lips feel, post bite.

I would not have let you come up my stairs
If I had known your words were honey, and I a hungry bear.

I cannot convince myself to take a stand—
To leave your glances behind and ignore your right hand—

When in my head, there is a wedding band
That fits us both just right. Now do you understand?

The first time we met, I said the lord’s prayer,
Eager to expel the newly sublime air,

That arrived with you, an owl in twilight.
The sun you brought with your smile is so bright,

It brings flame to the embers and forces me to ignite,
Into a fire so large it borders on impolite.

The weight of your gaze is too heavy to bear,
Your command of my mind is psychological warfare.

Though we have not long shared this green land,
I could identify your hair by a singular strand.

I know it sounds crazy, but I promise it’s planned;
Indifference is faked because the word love is too grand

For this feeling. Still I fight bravest fight,
Even though it may seem trite,

I cannot let go of your echo; so, drunk off a shitty pint,
I bring out the candles and hold a seance, despite

Knowing that one word of my passion would cause you to scare.
I bite my tongue and accept that my victories are rare.